


If it bleeds you can kill it

by Tennovakmoose



Series: Early Hunts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Clowns, Episode: s07e14 Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester is a good dad, Kidnapping, Nightmares, No Spoilers, Pre-Canon, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Stitches, Werewolves, episode inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennovakmoose/pseuds/Tennovakmoose
Summary: Inspired by Sam’s mantra when faced with the clowns in Plucky Pennywhistle’s, “if it bleeds you can kill it,” this is the story of how that thought came to be ingrained in his and Dean’s minds when they were younger.





	If it bleeds you can kill it

“Dean? Daddy! Dean!” Five year old Sam woke up in a panic when he couldn’t find his big brother in the bed next to him where he should be when he woke up after yet another nightmare. He sat up and looked across the room to his father’s bed blinking through the tears in his eyes trying hard to find someone, anyone, to reassure himself that he really wasn’t as alone and vulnerable as he felt right now.

“What? Sam what is it? What’s wrong?” John’s deep, sleep rough voice demanded as he looked around frantically for the danger that brought his son so abruptly awake at such an ungodly hour of the morning. In the same second, the toilet in the bathroom flushed and Dean ran out, bringing with him a too-bright stream of artificial light for tired eyes used to the darkness.

Little Sam, suddenly ashamed at his panic and feeling bad for waking his father, yet still wanting and needing the comfort, shakily admitted, “I had a nightmare.”

John sighed and ran a hand over his tired eyes, willing the adrenaline to leave his system and his heart rate to slow back to a more reasonable pace. Dean moved and sat beside Sam on the bed instantly, pulling the little boy into his arms for a tight hug murmuring soft reassurances. Slowly, John got up and went to sit on the other side of Sam. Rubbing a calloused hand across the back of Sam’s neck, he asked softly, “Do you wanna tell us about it? Might make ya feel better.” His voice was gentle, soothing.

Sam moved out of his hiding place in Dean’s arms wiped his running nose on the back of his arm, nodding and looking up at his father through bleary eyes. “It was the clowns again. He was really big, bigger than you and bigger than Uncle Bobby, and he was chasing me but I couldn’t run away an’ an’,” Sam’s breath caught in his throat and he took a deep shuddering breath to calm back down before continuing. Dean rubbed his back and reminded him that he’s safe; it was just a dream. “He was bleedin’ from his mouth and nose and eyes and ears an’ he had a knife and was tryin’ to make me bleed too, and he had a hole in his belly and he was bleedin’ there two and an’ Daddy, you shooted him and he still kept chasing me and bleedin’ more! Then he got me an’ I woke up and De wasn’t here and I thought he really got us for real!” Sam was crying again by the end of his story, this time curled into John’s powerful arms, face hidden from the big bad world that was bigger and badder than he would know for years to come.

John simply sat and held his crying baby for a few long minutes, shushing him and rubbing his back the way Mary had done for Dean years before. “Hey Sammy, can you look at me buddy?” John asked gently, pulling away slightly to try and look in his son’s eyes. Sam remained clinging as tightly to John as he could but still looked up to meet John’s gaze. “You know why you shouldn’t have been afraid of the clown in your dream?”

Sam sat up a little bit at the question, again wiping his snotty nose on the back of his hand to Dean’s complete disgust. He was fully expecting to hear the typical ‘you’re not a baby anymore its time to stop being scared of dreams’ speech so he decided to just jump to the end. “‘Cause it was just a dream and dreams can’t hurt you,” he answered dejectedly.

John chuckled lightly at the tone of Sam’s voice. “Well, yes,” he began, “but it’s something else too.” That had both of his sons’ attention, two pairs of wide, innocent eyes looking up at him waiting to hear what other explanation he could possibly come up with. “You said the clown was bleeding, right?” He waited for Sam to nod the affirmation. “I know you don’t know how to yet, but I promise as soon as you’re a little older I’ll teach you how to shoot a gun. But what’s important is that I know how to. I know how to shoot a gun and I was in the marines remember? That means I know how to protect you and your brother and I know how to kill the bad guys and all the evil clowns in the world. And if it bleeds, it can be killed.” Sam didn’t yet know about the world of real evil that existed in the dark corners of every room and John was planning on keeping it that way for just as long as possible but it was important that he understand that. John looked up at Dean, who did know about the monsters and real fear and evil, and repeated himself because this was an important lesson that he needed to know now and in the future. “If it bleeds, you can kill it.”

Dean nodded his understanding behind Sam’s back and looked down at the bed, pulling at his fingers, storing that obviously vital information away for the future. Sam looked up at his dad in complete awe. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe Dad really is a superhero, if he know how to kill bad guys and he protects people. That’s what superheroes do after all. Suddenly, Sam felt much safer in that motel room in the middle of nowhere. After all, he lived with a real life superhero to keep him safe and he was gonna be like X-men and be trained to be a hero too! He had a lot more questions to ask Dean and Dad, but they could all wait till morning, he was tired after all his earlier crying, shaking, and fear and yawned hugely.

Seeing the yawn, John rubbed Sam’s shoulder one more time and smiled at his young sons. “Okay boys, we’re leaving early in the morning so lets try to get some sleep. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He looked Sam in the eyes one more time. “Remember Sammy. If it bleeds you can kill it. No more nightmares tonight kiddo.” He leaned forward and kissed Sam’s forehead and reached beyond him and ruffled Dean’s hair affectionately. Both actions received sleepy smiles and soon, all three Winchester boys were tucked back under the covers where they belonged.

Right before drifting off, John heard Sam softly reminding himself “If it bleeds, Daddy can kill it.” Close enough, he figured, for now at least. 

***

Dean was fourteen years old when he went nose to nose with his first monster without his father’s reassuring presence mere feet or inches behind him. John was busy trying not to bleed to death from a gash on his thigh caused by what, as it turns out, was not ghoul but was actually a werewolf. That being the case, the buckshot in the sawed-off dean was aiming at its head would have next to zero affect. Still, John, in the hopes of at least scaring it off long enough for them to get away, yelled over the snarls for Dean to “pull the freaking trigger boy!” Dean jumped out of his deer in the headlights stupor and pulled the trigger, hitting the creature on the side of the head, causing it to howl in pain and, unfortunately, become even more focused on its target. Now though, Dean had gotten with the program and quickly re-cocked the gun and shot it again, this time in the chest. A spray of blood covered his face, but the wolf finally had enough and turned tail and ran.

Shaking, Dean turned around and dropped to his knees to help his father and figure out why the hell the headshot didn’t kill it. “Dad what the hell you said ghouls die when you shoot them in the head he didn’t die what does that mean? Why didn’t it die? Can it not die? Dad what was it? What do we do maybe it can’t be killed. Then what do we do if it can’t be killed? Sammy! It’s probably going after Sammy now Dad we gotta go!” Dean was rambling and trying to pull John to his feet, fear keeping his head more clouded than it should be during a hunt, keeping him from realizing that John was bleeding and likely not able to walk on his own at the moment.

“Dean calm down. It’s a werewolf. It’s not going after your brother its probably going back home since the suns almost up. And it bled didn’t it? If it bleeds you can kill it, always, no exceptions, you just gotta figure out what you need to use to kill it. Headshots only work for ghouls not werewolves. Now take off your belt we gotta stop this bleeding.”

Reassured and calmed slightly, Dean finally noticed John’s wound. Quickly, he removed his belt and began first aid, putting his belt above the gash and pulling it tight to stop the bleeding. He then, much more carefully, helped John to his feet and tucked himself under his arm to support him back to the car. “So what do you use to kill a werewolf then? If a headshot won’t work?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure, we’ll have Sammy check the lore for us when we get back while you help me stitch this up,” he said, gesturing at his injured leg and wincing at a particularly painful muscle twitch. “But I think they are part of the shifter family, so my best guess is silver bullet through the heart.” 

 

The next night, John and Dean were back out in the wolf’s hunting ground where they had been attacked last night, only this time, they were absolutely sure that they had the right equipment to take it down. As soon as they had gotten back to the motel the previous night, Sam had panicked at the sight of the blood coving his father and his brother, but John waved off his attempts to help and collapsed on the nearest bed while Dean ran off to get the first aid kit out of the trunk of the impala. Once Sam realized none of his family members were dying in that particular moment, he was willing to help figure out the best way to kill a werewolf. As suspected, in turned out that John was completely right; werewolves are a part of the shifter family, so the best way to kill them is a silver bullet to the heart. So here they are, John limping slightly and acting mostly as Dean’s back up despite his young age because of his injury.

Both Winchesters had their guns loaded with silver and ready to shoot at the first sight of the thing. John could tell Dean was nervous and maybe even a little scared, but he was obviously using his fear to focus his attention on his surroundings rather than being distracted by it, based on the way he walked in a protective stance with his knees bent and body leaning forward slightly. His eyes were in constant motion, looking all around himself to avoid being surprised, gun barrel following his line of sight automatically, trusting John to cover his 6. He was completely silent in his footsteps, and John couldn’t have been more proud of his son in that moment for remembering and practicing all the hunting skills he had learned over the years.

Dean, meanwhile, was freaking out. He knew he was following his father’s instructions on instinct at this point because John’s voice was ringing in his head, shouting orders and reminders of how to keep himself safe and quite and under the monster’s radar. He also remembered John’s reminder from last night ‘if it bleeds you can kill it, no exceptions.’ Having never faced a werewolf before last night and having no solid proof that it could in fact die from a special bullet, Dean was terrified that the lore was wrong and they might not make it back to Sammy after this hunt. His only comfort was the quiet mantra he kept up under his breath, “It bled so we can kill it and the lore said this is how.”

They eventually reached the small clearing where the wolf had attacked the night before. Dean’s heart was hammering away in his chest and he was sure that, wherever it was right now, the wolf could hear it no problem. Hell, his dad could probably hear it and he doesn’t have super-sonic hearing like most monsters apparently do. Back to back, the hunters stood, circling slowly around the clearing lit only by the light of the full moon peaking through the clouds and the treetops far above them. Occasionally, a branch would break or leaves would rustle and they would quickly turn towards the sound, cautious but ready to shoot.

Finally, after several long minutes of waiting, there was a low snarl to the right of Dean. He whipped around and brought his gun up to his shoulder. He felt John standing right behind him and knew they were both staring at the two yellow, slitted eyes peering out of the tree line directly in front of them. “Go on, son. Shoot it. Remember, aim for the heart,” John whispered in his ear.

Dean didn’t pull the trigger though. He stood with the gun aimed at approximately chest height on the monster and waited. Suddenly, the beast howled and kept from the bushes towards them. Without thinking, Dean pulled the trigger and stopped the wolf mid jump from reaching its target. When it collapsed to the ground, John let out a relieved sigh and slapped a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Well done. I though you’d frozen for a minute there and I was gonna have to take the shot.”

Dean smiled proudly up at his father, breathing heavy as his heart rate went back to normal. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “I was waiting for a clear shot. Didn’t wanna miss.”

John just chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Well keep it up. You did good today, kid. Now for the fun part: clean-up.” Dean groaned, but followed John over to the body.

***

“If it bleeds you can kill it,” the thing wearing John’s face mocked, waving the tip of the blade carelessly in front of Sam’s face. Across the room, Dean was shooting daggers from his eyes and acid from his lips where he was tied, up unable to do anything to help Sam other than try to distract the bastard that got the jump on them. “Isn’t that what you were chanting at me a few minutes ago?” It smirked over at Dean for a moment. “What do you say we find out if little Sammy here bleeds, shall we Dean-o?”

“Fuck you,” Dean spat, trying desperately to undo the bindings on his wrists keeping him from getting to his little brother, from saving him.

“Now, now! That’s no way to speak to your father is it boy? If you don’t clean that mouth up right the fuck now you’ll end up with tape over your mouth like baby brother here. Don’t want that do ya?” It’s eyes had suddenly gone ice cold and Dean collapsed back against the pillar he was tied to, frustrated and scared and tired.

“You are not my father,” he said weakly. Sam took advantage of the shifter’s momentary distraction to shoot pleading eyes over to Dean; he was scared too and didn’t know when John, the real John not this thing wearing his face, was gonna show up to save them both.

The shifter just laughed and turned back to face Sam. “Close enough to make this sting a whole hell of a lot more,” he said with a shrug before quickly dragging the silver blade deeply across Sam’s forearm, dragging a scream of pain Sam and a matching shout of anger from Dean. “Well look at that!” The creature said, seemingly in happy surprise. “It does bleed, and quite easily too! Killing you will be fun, boy.”

Sam whimpered behind the tape and tried to breath through the pain while glaring at the monster, making it perfectly clear with his eyes were it could shove that stupid blade.

When his arm arched back for another blow, Dean shouted from across the room and Sam flinched back, closing his eyes preparing for the pain. He didn’t disappoint. This time, Sam got a deep cut across his cheek and briefly he thought of the Joker (“wanna know how I got these scars?”) And he almost laughed at the though even as more tears flowed from his eyes and more blood flowed into his mouth. The creature just laughed as Sam panted and Dean groaned.

“What do ya say?” It asked. “One more before I move on to Big Brother? I bet seeing him sliced up would hurt you more than this does.” Sam shook his head, he would rather be sliced to ribbons himself than see Dean hurt at all, but that was exactly the point wasn’t it?

Once again the Shifter pulled his arm back, this time both brothers closed their eyes waiting for the blow. That’s why they were both surprised when the sound of sharp metal slicing through skin didn’t come with howls of pain. Sam slowly opened one eye to peak out at the scene in front of him.

“I think you’ve had enough fun torturing my boys.” John’s gravelly voice echoed through the still air in the empty ware house, instantly relaxing and soothing both boys. With the same sticky sound as before, he withdrew his silver blade from the monster’s back and let it fall to the floor with a dull thud.

John then went over to Sam and carefully removed the tape from around his mouth before beginning to undo the binds around his wrists and ankles. “Dad,” Sam breathed, practically prayed, letting his head fall back against the chair.

“Heya Sammy,” John answered with a small, sad smile. “Looks like you’re gonna needs some stitches here, bud.” He chuckled and tapped Sam’s cheek, just below the second cut, and jokingly said “How’d you get these scars?” Sam laughed airily and waited in the chair he was no longer bound to while John went over and untied Dean.

“I don’t know how it happened, Dad,” Dean started to explain. “We were just doing what you told us, scoping the place out and it got the jump on Sam and had him gone before I even realized it then he was back for me and I was looking for Sam and he got me too I didn’t mean to let it happen, Sir. I’m sorry.”

“At ease, Dean. It’s okay, no need to apologize, you boys are still learning, monsters get the jump on all of us from time to time. I got here in time and you both are mostly okay, that’s what counts, remember that.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They both returned to Sam’s side and helped him up and into the impala waiting outside.

Back at the motel, Dean went to take a shower while John numbed Sam’s skin and began stitching his arm and face. “Seriously Sam,” he laughed, “you’re gonna have some pretty bad ass scars after this one.”

“Yeah but I can’t tell anyone how I got them, they’ll think I was in a car crash or something,” Sam pouted.

“So? Girls think scars are hot, no matter how you got them.”

“Yeah I guess.” They were quite for a few minutes after that, Sam lost in his thoughts, John concentrating on getting clean edges so the scars aren’t as obvious. “Dad, it umm, the monster, it said something and I guess I always knew it was true but, I don’t know I guess just hearing it out loud, being there like that made it more real. And I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“Spit it out, kid. What did it say?”

“Just that I bleed so I can be killed. It’s right. I mean obviously I bleed otherwise you wouldn’t be stitching me back together right now but I just never really applied the whole ‘if it bleeds you can kill it’ thing to myself until tonight and now I’m scared, its stupid I know fear gets you killed, and I knew that I could die before now, but I guess I just never realized how easily I could die until now like it wouldn’t take a special blade or bullet or ritual or anything and then I’d just stop living and you and Dean too, you guys could die just as easy and then I’d be all alone, and—“

“Sam, stop,” John interrupted. “Breathe kiddo. It’s okay, you’re allowed to be afraid of death. Fear of you weapons will get you killed. Fear of being killed will keep you alive, it will keep you careful. You’re right, we’re only humans and humans are easy to kill but we know how to not get killed. We’re smart and we’re careful and we know how to get out in front of the danger most of the time.” John paused in his stitching and looked up at Sam for a moment before getting back to work. “Hell I’m scared to death I’m not gonna be there to fish you boys out of trouble some day and I’m gonna loose you, that’s why I’m teaching you to get yourselves out of trouble as best as I can. There’s nothing we can do but be as prepared as we can to prevent it. No matter what happens though, we’ll be okay. All three of us.”

Sam nodded and blinked away the tears. John finished Sam’s stitches and let him have the next shower while he went around the room packing what he could to get them on the road first thing in the morning.


End file.
